Madame Vastra Investigates: the Death of Matthew Crawley
by Bingo the Cat
Summary: A letter from an old friend of Jenny's puts a spin on the Christmas holidays of the Flint family in their new home (in the year 2083); he writes that Matthew Crawley, heir to the Earldom of Downton Abbey and Grantham, has died in a car crash and the Earl would like the family to investigate. But is it just them, John Bates and Tom Branson, or is something a bit... off?


**CHAPTER I : Jenny's Letter**

The chink of glasses and the raucous laughter that emanated from the dining room made Strax smile. He had never understood the importance of Christmas, nor why it meant so much to the family. All he knew was how to fight, think up battle plans, and rearrange china tea sets (the one thing that Jenny didn't seem to understand, when in comparison to their work with Scotland Yard, he was so violent).

He was filling up a new decanter with claret when there was a knock on the back door. He looked towards the doorway leading to the hall, then back at the door, wondering whether he should answer it. Whoever was there was an impatient fellow, for he knocked again, louder. Strax had no choice but to answer it; the door swung inwards, and the Sontaran's eyes were met with the bright lights of the new era that they lived in. Stood in front of him was a young boy, no older than twelve or thirteen, and he had a satchel bag slung over his shoulders. He held out three newspapers, and a bunch of envelopes, and Strax took them, setting them on the counter before sending the boy away. He sifted through the envelopes: bills, an official-looking letter for Zen (probably from his law firm, asking him if he could work next weekend, Strax mused to himself), a telegram from Scotland Yard for Madame Vastra (possibly a new case for them to follow up as a team - he, Vastra and Jenny - and solve, seeing as the agents at the Yard were obviously so _incompetent_...), and finally, a letter for Jenny. Strax frowned. That was new - Jenny almost never got mail, not from anyone. Then he took notice of how old the letter was - it must have been more than a hundred years ago that it was written...

_The Doctor. Of course._

Strax bent over, to find the silver letter platter and the envelope knives; he found them hidden away in a spare equipment cupboard. Stacking the letters in order of seating arrangements at the table, he picked up the newspapers in his other hand and carried all the post through to the dining room.

As he neared the slightly open door, he heard the family laughing as Jack told them a story - most likely something funny that had happened at work the previous week.

"...and then, and then, if you'll believe it, he says to me, he says, "'Ere, Jack, where didja get all them phones from? 'Cos some son of a witch 'as gone and nicked all mine!" And I said, "Nicked all your phones, Will, what next? So you'll be wanting some more, then?" And if you'll believe me, the gormless gargoyle buys all his own phones back off of me for a lot more than what he paid in the first place!"

Strax rolled his eyes as he pushed the door open to admit himself with the post; Vanessa was slumped forwards, over the table, howling with laughter, which was rather unusual for her as she was quite a quiet person. Quiet, but determined to do what was right. Everyone looked around at him, grinning madly; Jenny was hiccoughing a little; it looked as though she had been at the wine a little too much. _But then_, a snarky little voice said inside his head, _why shouldn't she? After all, with recent events that have happened... Take that into account._

He held the platter lower, and Clara removed the post and the letter openers from it, handing out each individual envelope with a knife and placing the bills back onto the platter. Zen reached over her (quite literally, as he was so tall), and tugged his copy of _The Times_ from Strax's three-fingered hand, shaking it open to the middle pages for any minor announcements in society. Vanessa straightened up, clearing her throat, and held her hand out for the two other newspapers. Vastra was already immersed in her telegram from the Yard, and Jenny shook her head slightly to clear it before opening her own letter and placing her reading glasses onto her nose.

Strax was still standing to attention by the door when Jenny dropped the letter opener onto the table in shock. Everyone looked over at her, surprised. Jenny's jaw was slack, her eyes wide as they sped across the paper, taking in every single word that was written there. She looked up at Vastra, over her spectacles, and mouthed something.

Whatever it was, it was enough to make the Silurian detective drop her own telegram and letter opener.

"Mum? What's the matter?"

Zen's quiet, soft and lilting voice interrupted the silent conversation that the couple were sharing, and they turned to face the younger members of their little family. Jenny slowly removed her glasses, putting them back into her shirt pocket. She stood up slowly, and - without meeting anyone's eyes - she murmured almost inaudibly:

"Matthew Crawley's dead. Died in a car crash."

But then a small smile broke out. She looked up, and everyone was surprised to see the very familiar light glimmering in her eyes again. Strax almost groaned in irritation. That light had been there whenever Jenny had made fun of Strax at Demon's Run. The light was there the night Vastra proposed, and then again, the morning after they got married. It was there when the trio were out solving a case, it was there just after they moved to the future - after Trenzalore.

More than anything, the light in Jenny's eyes was there when she and Vastra found out that the former was pregnant with their oldest daughter, and throughout the long nine months Clara Oswald was an immense help, so it had been fitting that their daughter be named after the Doctor's companion. And that light had been there when Clara asked Jenny whether she'd thought properly about naming her daughter; Strax remembered the day clearly...

_Clara bustled around the room, tidying up all the towels and flannels and any other equipment she'd brought with her for the whole miracle that had taken place; Vastra sat on the bed next to Jenny, whose hair was escaping its bun and curling around the human girl's face. The Silurian was staring down in wonder at the bundle in Jenny's arms, and a small smile lit her face up entirely. She reached out a trembling hand, and stroked back the wisps of dark hair that were already showing on top of their daughter's head. At the touch of Vastra's cool, beaded fingers, the baby opened her eyes for the first time, and Jenny grinned broadly as Vastra chuckled. "She has your eyes," the maid said, leaning her head against her wife's shoulder._

_Clara looked over at the couple, then turned to smile at the Doctor and Strax, who watched from the doorway. The Doctor, although having recently regenerated, was grinning broadly, too, and Clara thought she could see that his eyes were slightly wet with emotion. Strax just stood there, looking like a gormless idiot, as per usual. Clara had to repress a chuckle at the thought. She looked back to Vastra and Jenny, and cleared her throat._

_"Uh, I hate to break this cosy moment, but you haven't given your daughter a name yet."_

_Jenny stroked a thumb over the baby's cheek, both she and Vastra smiling softly down at her; their daughter wriggled a bit in her blankets, shutting her eyes and going back to sleep. Jenny swallowed, and whispered hoarsely, "Clara..."_

_"Yes?" The Doctor's companion had turned back to her tidying up, but at the mention of her name, she looked back at the couple. Jenny grinned again._

_"No... Clara. That's wha' 'er name should be."_

_Clara blinked. "What? Are- are you sure? I- I mean-" she stammered, looking at Vastra, who just grinned._

_"I think it's a great name."_

_"But-" Clara flailed her arms about helplessly. "Have- have you thought about this? I mean, like, properly?"_

_Jenny fixed the companion with stare. "I'm completely certain. There's no changin' my mind once it's made up." She looked back down at her daughter. "Clara... Clara Vastra Flint."_

_The Doctor spoke up from his viewpoint in the doorway. "I think that's a wonderful idea," he stated, his new Scottish lilt never failing to make Clara's heart do backflips. Jenny sniggered silently as she spied the look on Clara's face. The Doctor looked at Clara, and gave her a little smirk. "Just think about it - you'll have a namesake!"_

_"Oh..." Clara seemed to come to a final decision. "Very well, then. Clara Vastra Flint. I'll go and write it on the forms."_

The Sontaran zoned back into the conversation.

"...so we're going to Downton Abbey in the year 1921?"

"Yes. My friend has requested that we investigate the death a bit better than the police have done - he just has a feelin' that's somethin's amiss. And when John Bates feels as though somethin' is amiss, well... let's just not go there."

The maid left the parchment on the tabletop, and she and Vastra swept out of the room, to call the Doctor and to pack their swords and Victorian clothing from the days of yonder; Jack snatched it up, reading it aloud to Zen, Vanessa and Clara, seemingly ignoring Strax.

"_My dear friend Jenny, I hope this letter finds you, safe and sound. I'll get straight down to business, and unfortunately, it's not pleasant. Recently, the heir to the Earldom of Downton Abbey died in a car crash, and on the day his son was born. It's a shame that it happened, of course, but I don't believe the police have done a thorough enough investigation. When I took a look at the wreckage that was the car with Tom Branson, he and I both noted that there was something wrong with the engine - other than being completely mangled from the crash, of course. I'd like to see you and your darling wife's amazing detective skills in action. Bring Clara, Vanessa, Jack and Zen along, too, as I'd like to see if they are anything like their mothers - and (if you've told them), I believe they would like to see their godfather whilst here. I know that you live in a completely different time zone, so I've left the letter with the Doctor for him to deliver on the correct day. If this letter has reached you, it should be Christmas Day, 2083. Look forward to seeing you soon, old friend, John Bates._"

Strax looked over at the four youngsters, who looked at each other in shock. "Godfather..." Zen muttered. "Why didn't mum - or mother - ever tell us?"

Clara snapped, "That doesn't matter. The point is, someone's died. We should already be looking for as many clues as possible - Ness, what was that other newspaper you took off of Strax?"

Vanessa scowled at her older sister for using her childhood nickname, but passed the spare paper over. "An old and really outdated version of this local paper called the _Downton Times_."

Zen had a pen at the ready to start circling possible hints and leads. The four grinned at each other. They could show Mr Bates that they were good detectives - maybe not as good as their mothers, but good enough. They'd show him just who was boss.

In all honesty, Strax never had any doubt in them. After all, they were the children of the Great Detective and her wife.


End file.
